With your passing
The rough hand of death
Caressed my own heart
And with every beat
I hear his whispered counting.
I still see you and Rose, hand and hand,
Strolling under the palm trees,
Happy.
Do you remember?
Do you remember how it was?
In the mornings your ruffled way,
And Chaplin walk.
Even acting like a child,
Though we were only just new friends.
Attending yourself in our mirror,
All whiskery and gruff,
While coffee and food when down you like water.
Fuel for those eyes
That melted me.
But I have ever been so
For blue eyes.
Then you and I about our manly duties went.
The four of us laughing at what we were supposed to be good at
But were never born to be.
God we had some laughs.
Rose was never quite done cleaning.
How many times did she wash the patio?
While you and I sat down to “Admirals”
With foreign accents.
Knowing so much of life ridiculous,
We could play as serious.
Over these games we discussed our plans
To change the lot of our countrymen.
It seems cruel irony to me now
That you fell prey to such as we talked of
But never could have been.
And I know there was a moment,
When you realized the inhumanity of the things we said.
Dear God forgive us.
Forgive us for light hearts.
The game and talk were draining
And we were late (again!) for town.
After much preening,
And a bowl or two,
We’d cruise into town
Along the ocean drive,
And with Boston blaring
We had more than a feeling.
The girls would plunge into the market.
While you and I walked the back streets
And talked.
B.S.’ing down Benito Quarez,
All the girls taking stock.
Feeling so good,
So alive.
I remember wishing
You would always be with me.
We’d find our way back to the girls
Our sandals all slimy form the streets,
The girls in a furry over some Mexican.
It didn’t take long to decide to go home.
Afternoons were long and lazy.
Under the palms with a book
Or just dreaming.
A good game of “Waterworks”
With Lee and Lavern
Or the P.E.I. kids,
Or whatever.
Someone might come with a tale to tell
Or a gift or the latest football news.
Often these times
We’d just sit and say,
We have a good life,
And we did.
Dinner was jumbo prawns by the kilo
And yogurt and honey and fruit for dessert.
The smoke would hang
In the warm evening air
And another day would slip away
In Mazatlan
John Myles Anderson and Rosvita Sauer were a Canadian couple my girlfriend and I met in Mexico in the 1970′s. We travelled with them for the better part of a month. Shortly after we returned to Canada, the RCMP informed us that they had been murdered while still in Mexico. Their killers have never been found.
